


Psychometry

by samstoleaburger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Case Fic, Death Threats, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Murder-Suicide, Mutilation, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Psychological Torture, Torture, Victim Blaming, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstoleaburger/pseuds/samstoleaburger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old case from his earlier years on the force comes back to haunt Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my artist, **apieceofcake** , for their wonderful prompt and for making these amazing pieces of work once I (somehow, miraculously) finished writing this fic.
> 
> I'd also like to thank **chemm80** for their fantastic beta work and dealing with me bouncing all over the place. I'm pretty sure you wanted to smack me upside the head at some point
> 
> Let's not forget to thank **spn-reversebang** for hosting this every year (though this is my first year doing it).
> 
> And, of course, to my friends who dealt with my whining, complaining and freaking out during this whole process.

Dean parked the car a couple blocks away from the abandoned warehouse, casting a quick, surveying, glance over the area before turning the engine off. There was no one here. Or so it appeared. Dean's had and seen his fair share of these scenarios before. He'd learned fast that it was best to check regardless. More than half the time the criminal was in the building and would take off the moment the police were closing in.

However, Dean didn't have backup. Nor was he wearing his uniform, complete with bulletproof vest and pouches for extra ammunition. No. He was going in alone, as he wanted, and in his civvies. With only his badge and Glock for protection. Not exactly the best idea he's ever had, but a child's life was on the line and he wasn't going to let some monster kill her.

He couldn't let _that_ happen again.

Taking the keys out, Dean shoved them into his jacket pocket. He grabbed his badge and gun from the glove compartment, checked the safety on the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Once he was sure the car was locked up tight, he turned his attention back to the building.

For some new hotshot killer, they sure took to doing the stereotypical criminal mistakes. Leaving behind obvious clues and picking the easiest places one would pinpoint in a second. Though that doesn't mean the police haven't made some miscalculations; he'd honestly be surprised if they didn't.

However, Dean was almost positive that this was the killer's hiding place. Although recently abandoned, the warehouse wasn't one anyone besides dumb teenagers would dare go into alone. Not when it had rumors of death surrounding it. No surprise there. Everyone needed a little mystery in their lives, even if it's all made up for kicks.

Still, a note had been left atop the grave of the most recent victim. Stating crystal clear that the murderer had a little girl captive, that she didn't have much time left and that they were going to have fun cutting her up. Which made Dean sick to his stomach once he read it, but also made the burning need to catch this psycho ramp up several degrees.

He took a minute to take a breath, to calm himself before he went inside to find this son of a bitch and put a stop to all of this.

Slowly exhaling, Dean moved to creep across the asphalt, ducking behind a pile of rubble and peering along the edge. He crouched, resting his left hand on the ground and narrowing his eyes. The fact that there was no one here, not even anyone by the doors, was disconcerting. Sure, his target could be hiding inside, but even then, wouldn't they at least want to see if someone was nearby? Or maybe he was overthinking it.

Maybe he wasn't.

Pressing his right hand against the rubble, Dean shifted back and turned to go around the other way. Which seemed to be a good idea since there was more to duck behind, all the better to get inside without getting noticed. If he was careful. As he stood, Dean made his way over to the other pile and reached for his gun once he was behind it.

No one knew the identity of the killer. Not really. Jody told him once that sometimes crimes like these were the ones that could have any party guilty. Man or woman, it could go either way. That it's best not to assume because sometimes that led to the wrong person. So he was going in practically blind.

All he did know was that they were ruthless and deadly. That they had a preference for attractive people and jagged knives. That they enjoyed mutilating their victim's faces before doing anything else. That being done to a child wasn't exactly something Dean wanted to see happen.

Twisting his gun in hand, he flicked the safety off and then pressed the butt of the Glock against his palm. Dean peeked around the corner, gaze flitting from right to left then back. Still empty. No car in sight. It did nothing to relieve his discomfort nor did it settle his worries. If he was wrong then he'd have wasted a day. Another day with precious hours that could have been spent finding her and taking her home.

He stepped away from the mound and jogged toward the warehouse entrance, the muzzle of his gun pointed at the ground. Dean then pressed his back flat against one of the double doors, reaching out to grab the handle to the door on the other side and pulling it open slowly. It groaned, loud and long in his ears, and he tensed. Shit. If that was heard throughout the building then he was screwed and the criminal would get away before he even got close enough to see their face.

Dean stood there, waiting. After a long pause and nothing happening, he slipped inside. Just as slowly as he'd opened it, he shut the door, and then made his way down the large hall. All that surrounded him was brick and whatever had been left behind by the clean-up crew. Random piles of junk and debris. The only sound echoing back at him was his footsteps, not enough to attract unwanted attention.

For now.

He poked his head into a few rooms as he passed. Most were empty and a few had desks covered in massive amounts of dust. Nothing worth taking note of thus far.

Until he saw a door that was wide open, chains dangling from the ceiling and a chair in the middle of a pool of blood on the floor. Narrowing his eyes, Dean caught sight of a sheet of paper lying atop the chair. There didn't seem to be any bloodstains on it, as far as he could see from where he was standing. Raising his weapon, Dean cautiously ventured over, making sure to keep his eyes on anything and everything. Just in case the killer decided to jump him then and there.

Still no sign of them.

Carefully pushing aside a couple chains as to not have them make a sound, Dean eventually got to the chair and reached out for the paper, which was facedown. He took hold of it and flipped it over as he stood up straight. His eyes widened and an, "Oh shit," passed his lips in a soft whisper.

_Got you._

The door behind him slammed shut.


	2. Chapter 2

The second Dean opened his eyes was the moment he knew something was wrong.  
  
For one, the room smelled strongly of iron, urine and excrement. Not the best thing to wake up to, honestly, and it made him gag. Thus having him try to turn away from the overwhelming stench. Which led to realizing he was bound to a chair with rope. His hands were independently tied from the rest of him, hanging through the gap in the back of the chair. The binds, however, constricted his chest to the back and his feet were just as useless seeing as his ankles were secured to the legs.  
  
The next thing he noticed, after telling himself repeatedly, _Don't freak out_ , was that it was dark. Sure, there was a small light coming from the crack under the door upstairs and the one and only window, but it was hard to see where he was and what was around him. What he could see, though, disturbed him greatly.  
  
There was a table on the far side of the room slathered in blood and what looked like skin. A few things laid atop it. Like a pile of chains, some skulls and, of course, some hunks of flesh. It reminded Dean of those overdone horror movies where the victim would see all this scary shit just to wig them out before they died. Just because they were being stupid.  
  
Just like him. Going off on his own and now here he is. In some basement with a psycho.  
  
He sat there for what felt like hours before the door opened and flooded the room with light. Dean had to close his eyes to keep from being blinded as a light switch was flicked. As he opened his eyes, the woman had made her way down the stairs and their eyes locked.  
  
All at once, he felt like he was in his late twenties and looking at a teenaged girl whose innocence had been stripped away without warning. How she'd been exposed to all this death and abuse.  
  
There was no way this could be that girl. No fucking way.  
  
"Ruby?"  
  
She hummed softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Officer Winchester." she returned. "You remember me?"  
  
Dean stared up at her, watching as Ruby moved about the barely lit room. She fiddled with the knife in her hand, running the pad of her finger along the jagged edge like one would do to their old blanket from childhood. The knife being her security net.  
  
"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you do." she ventured, locking her gaze on Dean's face. "It's been years. Oh, don't worry, they've been kind to me." Ruby gave a strained smile before turning back to her weapon. "After all, what kind of person would I be if my dad was still alive and I wasn't forced to live with my aunt? She was a bit cracked though."  
  
She tapped the back of the knife against the palm of her hand.  
  
"Not crazy-crazy, if you know what I mean. She was the God-fearing kind of nuts." Ruby gave one last tap as she stopped misstep. "When she heard what happened, she tried to console me. Took me to church alongside therapy." She moved to stand in front of Dean, pointing the end of the blade to his face. "Thanks for that. Not only are you a liar, you easily forget the consequences of what you do. Have you ever stopped and thought that the person you 'saved' would rather be with someone else?"  
  
"I didn't lie." He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. "We tried to get him to surrender willingly. How the fuck was I supposed to know your dad would resist?"  
  
"Oh, please." Ruby rolled her eyes, lowering her weapon. "He killed some kids so of course he was going to. That and he had me to worry about." Shaking her head slowly, she sighed and bent over to be level with Dean. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Winchester."  
  
"I tried." he snipped.  
  
The calm expression Ruby had been sporting melted into irritation and she rose her knife threateningly.  
  
"Don't tempt me to cut that tongue out. Not only would that be unfortunate for both of us, but it would ruin all the plans I have for you. And that would be a shame." Even as she said this, Ruby ran the edge of the blade along Dean's jawline. Barely crossing the line of nicking skin. "I want to give you time to _think_."  
  
He cocked his head away from the knife warily. "Think about what?"  
  
"Well, why do you think I left a trail of breadcrumbs, Short Bus?" She raised her other hand, motioning to the room around them. "All those people died for a reason."  
  
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. _Fuck. No. Don't tell me..._  
  
Apparently his shock managed to slip through his mask and Ruby's lips curled upward at the sight.  
  
"Get it now? They were all for you." She placed her hand on his knee in a mock comforting gesture before using the leverage to stand. "Would've been bad if someone else had gotten this case though. But it all worked out in the end."  
  
With a small smile, Ruby turned and left. Once she was at the top of the stairs, she flicked off the light and Dean was left to dwell in the darkness.

The next time she came downstairs, Ruby didn't hold back from cutting Dean whenever he'd say something that rubbed her the wrong way. Each and every nick felt like a branding iron. They hurt like a bitch and burned from the incision.  
  
Eventually she put the knife down and opted for her fists.  
  
And all Dean could do was _sit there_ and _take it_. Absorb the verbal and physical abuse as Ruby all but whaled on him for as long as she was able. Even if she stopped talking at some point and simply focused on beating the shit out of him. Which was fine because Dean could take the punches like they were old friends of his, disconnect from the situation.  
  
Until a well-aimed punch broke his nose and had him cry out.  
  
That's when Ruby finally left him alone again, but this time with the taste of blood in his mouth.  
  
_Fuckin' Christ._  
  
Dean looked around the room, twisting as best as he could to try and peer over his shoulder. He didn't have much time until Ruby came back for round three and he knew that she was going to, most likely, slit his throat anytime now. Forget that it had been over a day since he’d been locked in here—apparently some kind of basement—Dean knew that if he didn't get out soon then once he was dead, Ruby would continue to run amok. Go back to murdering people and avoiding capture.  
  
It didn't help that the only source of light was from the small window.  
  
He worked his jaw, closing his eyes and hanging his head as he breathed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed to find a way to get out and back to the station. Or anywhere at all.  
  
Dean gave another futile tug to the binds around his wrists.  
  
If he could just find something to cut them with then he could ditch this crazy ride and never look back.

Ruby brought a wooden bat with her the third time she came down the stairs. She was humming to herself as she adjusted her hold.  
  
It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what she was going to do with that and Dean’s stomach cramped at the thought. Regardless of the fact he knew, it wouldn't lessen the strength of the blows. Nor would it stop them.  
  
He was proven right the moment Ruby swung and hit him square in the ribs. Dean wasn't a hundred percent sure if he screamed, but he knew his throat was sore and that the swing had knocked the chair off kilter. It tipped back and kept going, ending up with Dean slammed onto his back and wheezing. His breathing was labored and hitched, eyes squeezed shut as he rested his head on the dirty floor.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
Fuck.  
  
She broke his fucking _ribs_.  
  
Dean's body jarred whenever he took a breath, pain wracking his system, and his eyes stung with tears. After what felt like hours, he opened his eyes and they immediately locked on Ruby's impassive face. Her expression was unreadable as she looked down on him, bat in a loose hold. She then raised her foot and stepped on the corner of the chair.  
  
"Not so tough now, are you?" She pressed against the seat, causing Dean to tip to the side, onto his bound wrists. "How does it feel?"  
  
Ruby applied more pressure, leaning her elbow on her knee as she pressed down. Down and down and—  
  
"Stop." he gasped, eyes widening as his left arm screamed in protest. "Stop!"  
  
Both heard the snap of bone and Dean clamped his eyes shut as he threw his head back with a yell.

Dean’s chest heaved as he lay there, face sticky from the tears that had managed to escape. His breaths were wet and shaky, his lungs throbbing in protest whenever it would irritate his ribs. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around.  
  
The afternoon light poured through the window, illuminating the room and showing Dean everything he'd seen before. Parting his lips, he wet them with his tongue and felt his heart sink into the pits of his stomach. There was nothing, not a damn thing, he could use to get free. It made him sick and now that it sunk in, all he could think of was his family.  
  
His mom, dad, Sam, Jody, Donna...  
  
"Fuck."  
  
Dean twisted in the chair, his movements spurred on by a sudden burst of aggravation.  
  
"Fuck."  
  
_I'm not going to die here._  
  
He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind to focus on finding a way out instead of the agony singing through his system from his actions. He searched, desperate to find anything to get him untied.  
  
_I'm not going to die here!_  
  
It was then that he caught sight of a stray piece of metal sticking out of an exposed pipe's jagged coupling. Dean ceased struggling for a moment, catching his breath as he stared at the pipe. Holy shit. There it was. His way out.  
  
Sucking in some air, he began to squirm his way over to it, trying to keep his focus on that and that alone. Each shift and thump shook his whole body, which in return had agitated his injuries. Dean hissed and trembled but kept on going.  
  
Once he got close enough and maneuvered himself just right, he rubbed the rope binding his wrists against the coupling. He looked toward the stairs, his heart thundering in his ears as he continued to scrape away at the rope. Dean's senses were on high alert, like a trapped animal who knew that any second now its predator would come to finish it off. That there wasn't much time.  
  
_C'mon...c'mon!_  
  
Dean kept dragging, cutting away, until there was nothing left and the rope finally gave way. He would have taken a minute to let the relief wash over him, but instead went about untying the rest of him. As he unwound the rope from his right leg, he cast a quick glance to the stairs once more. Nothing.  
  
Good.  
  
Tossing the rope aside, Dean moved to stand and winced when it caused his ribs to throb. He placed his right hand over his side, breathing in slow and deep. It still hurt like a bitch but he had to muscle through it.  
  
Dean made his way to the stairs and climbed, eyes burning once more. _C'mon...c'mon..._ He reached the door and tried to open it, only to find it locked and he cursed. _Fuck. Are you shitting me?_  
  
Rearing back, Dean slammed his good shoulder into the door and grunted as the impact vibrated through him. He swallowed his cry down and did it two more times. The door gave way and swung open to reveal an empty hallway. Panting, Dean cautiously made his way down the hall and peered around the corner to see if Ruby was still there.  
  
Empty.  
  
He strained his ears, trying to hear her, but all he got was silence.  
  
Dean stumbled toward the entrance, flinging open the door and his stomach did a nasty flip once he saw a tiny forest in front of him. Great. Hopefully he could get to the road before Ruby decided to come back.  
  
With that, he took a step forward.


	3. Chapter 3

The store was quiet, aside from the occasional cough or scratch of lead to paper. It was the kind of silence Sam appreciated on most days. Especially as he was involved in the painstaking task of going through all the new books in the latest shipment. Some were ordered for a specific customer, some to be placed on the shelves at a later date, and some were for either Jessica or him. What was the use in being the owner of a store if he couldn't spoil himself from time to time? Or his girlfriend, for that matter?  
  
As the music played softly in the background, Sam pulled a couple more books from the order's box. _All The Light We Cannot See_ was becoming increasingly popular over the past few months, if the number of people special ordering it meant anything. Either that or they were getting them as a present for someone else.  
  
Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, Sam set them aside and was about to grab another box just as his cell went off. He frowned, confused as to why his mom was calling him now. Normally she'd call when he was on break or on his days off. Never when he was on the clock.  
  
_Unless it was an emergency._  
  
He swallowed, hard, wondering why that thought crossed his mind as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. Without wasting another second, Sam answered the call and pressed his phone against his ear. "Hi, mom."  
  
"Sam." She didn't sound stressed out, so that was a good sign. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm unpacking boxes, actually." He readjusted the phone and pressed his shoulder against it to hold the device up to his ear. "I...I wasn't expecting you to call."  
  
"I tried not to but..." There was a sound of cluttering dishes and she sighed a second later. Okay, maybe he'd been too quick to write this off as a friendly call. "I'm worried about Dean. He took off without telling anyone and hasn't been heard from or seen since yesterday. Is he with you?"  
  
"No, he -" Sam stopped right where he was once the information sank in. Dean disappeared. No one knew where he was. "Mom...how long did you put off calling me?"  
  
"A day. I'm sorry. The police kept asking questions and by the time they left, I didn't have it in me to call you."  
  
Her answer made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach and he tasted the bile that started to burn his throat. Sure, a day wasn't a huge gap, but it hurt nonetheless just thinking about what could happen to Dean in the meantime.  
  
"Mom, why would you put this off for so long? What if something happened to him?" Sam knew his tone was a tad harsh, but who wouldn't be? "What about Donna? Doesn't she know where he is?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam. I knew that you'd be busy with your bookstore and working on saving up for your engagement ring." Now he felt bad. "Donna has no idea where Dean could have gone either. I even called Castiel and he doesn't know."  
  
"What about Jody?"  
  
Her silence was the only answer and he figured that was a, "No," as well.  
  
"I'm coming out there." He had to say this before he second guessed himself. "I'll have Jess watch the store while I'm gone."  
  
"You don't need to. He's not with you so we'll try and think of who else he could be with."  
  
"No. Dean's in trouble and you need all the help you can get." As Sam said this, he stood from his crouched position and made his way to the reception desk. "I'll be there sometime Friday." He could practically see his mom rubbing her temple as she breathed out slowly.  
  
"There's no talking you out of this, is there?"  
  
"No."  
  
"All right. We'll see you when you get here. Drive safe."  
  
"I know, mom."  
  
"I love you, Sam."  
  
"Love you too. See you Friday."

Jessica had been more than happy to watch over the store while Sam made the long drive from California to Kansas to, hopefully, help in the search for his brother. So with a parting kiss and a wish of good fortune, he was off.  
  
He had to stop for rest on the first night of his journey, but forced himself to finish the last handful of miles on the second night. Putting aside the fact Sam didn't want to spend another night in a motel, he also didn't want to waste time that could be spent finding Dean.  
  
Sam pulled up to the house around nine that night, and saw that the porch and living room lights were on. He knew that their mom left them on, anticipating his arrival and he couldn't be more grateful for it.  
  
Sam set his bag down by the door and made his way toward the living room. Peering around the corner, he breathed out slowly once he saw that his parents had definitely gone to bed. Not that he blamed them.  
  
In fact, he was going to follow their example.

The morning came a little too soon for Sam's tastes.  
  
He could hear voices in the kitchen, talking low and soft in an attempt to not wake him. His dad was talking about Dean and that it had been over three days. That he didn't like these odds. It was taking too long to find him, Dean shouldn't have gone missing and shouldn't have 'taken that damn case.'  
  
" _John_!" Mary sounded distraught, too strung out for it to be healthy. "Dean is just doing what he thinks is right."  
  
"At the cost of what? He's been gone for **days** , Mary. No one has seen or gotten a hold of him. I don't think—"  
  
Sam, by this point, decided it would be best if he got up and let his presence be known. If only to keep his dad from saying something that would upset his mom further. Once he entered the kitchen, he noticed that John had shut his mouth and gone back to his toast. He looked grateful for Sam stepping in as well.  
  
"Morning." Sam moved to slide into the seat across from John and offered a smile to his mom.  
  
"Good morning, Sam." she returned, going to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. "Do you want me to make you some breakfast?"  
  
"No. I'll just have a bagel or something." He rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with a yawn. "So, um, did you leave the lights on last night?"  
  
"Yes. I was going to wait until you got here before going to bed, but the past few days have been...exhausting. To put it lightly."  
  
"More like a nightmare." John huffed.  
  
So that was what had gone on since Dean was announced MIA. That was just fine and dandy, in itself, but his parents looked drained. Like they were starting to lose the will to get up each day, the worry hanging over their heads like a thunder cloud, their own personal panic-rat waiting to get a nice, large bite when they let their guard down. Sam wasn't sure how to take the sight or the information laid before him.  
  
Pushing to stand, he got the bagels out of the fridge and popped one into the toaster.

Going to the police station had been on his agenda for the day and Sam figured he'd hit it up before anything else. See if there was any chance someone had an idea of where Dean went. Alongside seeing Jody after so long.  
  
Upon entering the station, he heard a familiar voice call out, "Sam!"  
  
He blinked, looking up as the door to the station closed behind him. Once he caught sight of Jody heading his way, a smile spread across his face and Sam waved to Donna as he made his way in. Donna gave him a small, pinched smile in return before going back to the paperwork on her desk. At the obvious dismissal, Sam turned his attention to Jody and wrapped her up in a hug.  
  
"Hey, Jody."  
  
She laughed, patting his back and then letting go. "Look at you! It's been years!" Jody slapped his arm in a playful manner. "And no phone call? Boy, I don't know whether to scold you or sit down and have a coffee." Her face then fell, like she just remembered something important and Sam didn't need to ask what it was. "Oh God, Sam. I'm so sorry. That coffee will have to wait."  
  
"No. It's...it's okay. Don't worry about it." He gave a strained smile before casting a glance over the office. "Busy day?"  
  
Jody heaved a sigh and rubbed her temple. "Besides the party Larry decided to throw last night that ended up in a brawl? Not really." She waved her other hand toward Donna. "I've been trying to calm her down for the past two days. Dean's disappearance has really stressed her out."  
  
"You mean she's caught in Dean's web?"  
  
"More like Dean's caught in her web. You should see how they act off duty. I swear, I'm starting to think Dean's ready to settle down and Donna just might be 'the one’."  
  
Sam didn't know whether or not to laugh at this. Sure, Dean wasn't really a playboy, but he wasn't exactly the type to have a relationship last long enough to reach the 'settling down' stage. Especially not with being a cop and risking his life every day.  
  
Just then, he realized, Jody was trying to make him feel better and it was working. Somewhat.  
  
"Is he serenading her?"  
  
"Yes. It's so sappy that I could vomit rainbows."  
  
"Must be serious."  
  
"It is."  
  
They ventured over to the chairs as they continued their conversation, jabbing jokes at Dean's ability to keep a relationship and Jody asking how Sam's was. It was refreshing, calming, not rushed. Neither hurried on to the topic of Dean's disappearance. Perhaps unsure of how to broach the subject since it was still a gaping wound.  
  
Sam couldn't blame Jody for taking her time. Both men had known her since they were children and she'd come to see them as one of her own. Knowing something could have happened to Dean must make her feel as sick to her stomach as Sam did.  
  
"Jody," It was time to take the plunge. "Have there been any leads on where Dean went?"  
  
Her expression went somber and she lowered her head to look at her hands. "No. I've checked everything. I tried calling his cell and home phone but no one's picked up." Jody closed her eyes and breathed in, slow and deep. "He wouldn't just up and vanish. Everyone knows that. Especially with the case Castiel gave him."  
  
"Dad was talking about that earlier."  
  
"Yeah. I told Cas it would be a bad idea to give this case to Dean since it involves children. You remember what happened the last time Dean had one of those."  
  
Yes, he did. He never wanted to see Dean fall back into that darkness. What with how much his brother drank, drowning in a bottle every night. Mom said it got worse after Sam left, but then Dean started getting better because he met someone new.  
  
"He looked like shit the last time I saw him—no, he wasn't drinking." Jody looked Sam in the eye and furrowed her brows. "He's been losing sleep over the case. That's all."  
  
"Jody...you don't think Dean went after the killer by himself, do you?"  
  
She shook her head in disgust. "Please. The kid's stupid enough to be completely reckless. I wouldn't put it past him."  
  
That didn't make him feel any better. "Let me help."  
  
This stopped her short and Jody turned in her seat to face him. "Sam, I know you originally studied to be a lawyer, but I can't let you get involved."  
  
"I'm his brother."  
  
"And I'm his friend. He wouldn't want you to get involved and possibly hurt."  
  
There was something she wasn't saying and Sam had a feeling he knew what it was. "Jody, please, I can help. I know Dean. There might be something in his apartment that you missed that you wouldn't think to look for."  
  
"Sam—"  
  
"I won't get in the way. If there's any sign of danger, I'll run, but please, Jody. You have to let me help."  
  
She sighed. "Who are you and what have you done with the little boy who was scared of blood?"  
  
Ah, there was the card he was hoping she'd pull.  
  
"What if I told you I never was?"  
  
Sam could see he won just by the way her shoulders slumped.  
  
"Fine. Meet me at Dean's apartment."

He pulled up to Dean's apartment with Jody not far behind. Sam still wasn't sure if he should get her involved in this whole mess. _His_ mess. It's not like his abilities were on display after he'd found out about them, since that would just lead to hospital visits and therapy sessions. Sure, some of the things Sam had seen would warrant signing up for some, but the last thing he needed was being labelled 'crazy.'  
  
Mentally preparing himself, Sam shut off the ignition and pulled his keys out. As he got out of the car, Jody came to a stop behind him and got out as well.  
  
"I could have done this by myself. You didn't need to go out of your way. I know you're busy."  
  
"With what? 'Purge' threats? Please." Jody huffed, waving a hand in a dismissive manner. "It's just a bunch of kids being dumb. Finding Dean's more important than scolding children." She tucked her keys into her pocket and gestured to the building. "Now let's go see what your dear ol' brother's been up to."  
  
Sam couldn't help but smile. He'd been right to ask Jody about Dean's disappearance, and he felt like there was a chance she would give his 'gift' a chance if it ever came up. Which he was sure it would. There was no way he'd be able to avoid it.  
  
He fell into step with her as they entered the apartment complex, ascending the stairs to the second floor and down the hall to Dean's room, where the landlord was waiting by the door. The man didn't seem too happy about it, but his expression changed the second he saw Jody. It wouldn't do to upset a police officer, after all. So, without much more than a mumble, he flipped through his keyring to unlock the door and let them inside.  
  
Nodding their thanks, Sam and Jody stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind them. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary; a couple McDonald's wrappers and a few beer bottles littered the table where a folder lay. Jody moved over to it, picking it up and opening it. As she flicked through the files, Sam looked over the photos scattered about the table and felt his stomach twist into a knot. Good God. The images were nothing but gruesome.  
  
What kind of _monster_ did these kinds of things to people?  
  
There were several mutilated faces, some with barely any skin or muscle attached. Rotted or, worse, burned. Sam could almost swear that the person who did this had a thing for destroying someone's best features. The inflictions weren't random. Not one bit. Surely Dean noticed this too, along with anyone else who saw these. Although they weren't random, one thing linked all of them together. A jagged cut.  
  
Sam knew without a doubt it was a knife, and hoped he would never need to touch it. Who knew what horrors it would reveal if he did. Intentional or not.  
  
Turning his head away, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, Sam stepped back from the table and made his way into the living room. There wasn't anything there to show where Dean was heading either. He clenched his jaw, cursing his brother for being dumb enough to go somewhere like this and not contact anyone. Besides that, knowing Dean, he'd found some major leads and had decided to forgo calling for backup in favor of going to find the killer. Which was typical Dean behavior, and Sam made a mental note to bitch him out for that once they found his sorry ass.  
  
'When.' Not 'if.'  
  
If Sam thought for even a second they might not find him, then they would lose the battle.  
  
"Sam." Jody's voice broke him out of his thoughts and Sam turned to face her. "I have to head back to base." She held up her phone as explanation. "Call me if anything comes up. I'm sorry. Some drunkard decided it would be a good idea to rob a grocery store naked."  
  
"Thanks, Jody. That's a nice mental image."  
  
"You're welcome." She smiled, tucking the file under her arm and placing her phone in her pocket. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."  
  
"I promise."  
  
As she left with the folder, Sam couldn't help the frown. Without that folder, he was lost. Unless, if he was lucky, Dean left behind a tiny clue of where to go next. Hopefully.  
  
Wandering around the apartment, Sam rifled through whatever looked like it might have some relevance to the case and hit a dead end each and every time. That is, until he found a map of Kansas. Sam stopped and picked it up, giving it another once-over. He furrowed his brows once he saw an abandoned warehouse circled in red. He glanced over at the clock hanging above the kitchen table, seeing that it was almost four in the afternoon.  
  
If he went to the warehouse now, there would still be enough light to be able to see without a flashlight. Then there would be less chance of missing anything.  
  
Folding up the map, Sam tucked it into his pocket and made his way out of the building.

Dean's was the only car Sam saw once he reached the warehouse. He wasn't sure how to feel about this bit of information, but swallowed his discomfort and parked next to Dean. Sam could worry about why the Impala was there after he checked the place out. Pocketing his keys, he got out and shut the door.  
  
Sam took a moment to inspect the car's interior, glad that no one broke in to gut it, and knew Dean would be pleased as punch when he was told that his baby was okay. A small smile came from the thought of Dean saying, "Thank _fuck_. I woulda shot a bullet straight up the bastard's ass if somethin' happened to her."  
  
He turned his attention back to the warehouse and gnawed on the inside of his cheek. All right. If things went well, he'd find enough evidence to catch the murderer and bring his brother home. Heading inside, Sam felt his stomach drop the second he was in. The vibe of the building was...bad. As if a lot of horrible things happened here.  
  
No doubt there had, and Sam wasn't looking forward to whatever he was going to see.  
  
He made his way down, casting brief glances every which way and peering into the rooms as he passed. Nothing but dust and debris. Once Sam reached the end, however, he noticed how one door was open. It was empty save for the blood on the floor. No. That wasn't blood on the floor. It was too red to be real.  
  
He squinted, a dull, browned splash catching his attention as he entered the room. The soles of his boots scraped at the blood on the ground with every step. It was fake; that was the easiest to tell. The smear on the chains? Real. The blood on the floor? Stage blood.  
  
Sam reached out, brushing his fingertips along the chains. He tensed as an image passed his mind's eye. Dean. _Dean was in this room_. He clamped his eyes shut and grunted, curling his fingers around the object. Focus. He had to _focus_.  
  
_Dean was at the entrance of the room, looking at the chair in the middle of the puddle of blood. His eyes were narrowed and calculating, as if he were debating whether or not to go inside, which Sam didn't blame him for. If he'd been in Dean's shoes, he would've turned right around and left. But he wasn't and Dean was looking to save a child from this madman.  
  
He watched as Dean raised his gun, venturing in slowly and being attentive of his surroundings. Dean took a hand off his firearm to push some chains aside, being careful not to jostle them as he did so. Once Dean reached the chair and picked up the note, Sam caught sight of a person outside the room. The dark figure gave off the impression of being a woman, with a knife in her right hand.  
  
She sauntered inside as Dean turned the paper in his hand over, slamming the door shut after the muttered, "Oh shit."  
  
Now that she stood in the room, Sam saw the black mist surrounding her fade to reveal long blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He could swear he knew her face from somewhere, but he couldn't place it. Sam's eyes widened once she raised her weapon and only then realized why he was seeing this from Dean's side.  
  
This was Dean's blood he was touching.  
  
Sam cried out as Dean turned, narrowly avoiding being stabbed in the back. The blade didn't miss entirely, however, as it nicked Dean's forearm. Dean flinched, his hold on the gun loosening as pain raced up Dean's nerves and his brain obviously picked up on the, "She's dangerous. Get away. Get away!" as she attacked again.  
  
There seemed to be some form of recognition on Dean's face, though, as he backed up, his arm brushing against the chain, blood smearing -_  
  
Sam's eyes snapped open. He sucked in a lungful of air as he jerked back from the vision and the chains rattled at the tug. He stood there panting and eyes wide as he looked around like a startled animal. His stomach twisted up in a knot, the sudden urge to lose his lunch hitting him like a freight train. Especially since the mere fact that that was where this smear's imprint ended didn't calm his nerves one bit. If Dean had gotten away, which was a good bet considering it was _Dean_ , then where would he go? Would there be another lead to look into?  
  
Would there be another trace of blood to aid his search?  
  
Sam sure as hell hoped so as he forced himself to relinquish his hold on the chains, telling himself over and over again to calm down. Dean was going to be fine. He was going to find him, plain and simple. If he didn't, Sam would then focus all his rage on taking that crazy bitch down and making sure she never saw the light of day. Whether it be in prison or a body bag.  
  
He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he looked about the room. Sam blinked and frowned once he noticed the door at the far corner of the room. It was cracked, not enough to be noticed at first glance, but open nonetheless. Narrowing his eyes, he took a cautious step forward and pushed a few chains aside. Was it possible that Dean went that way after he was attacked?  
  
There were more chains beyond the threshold. Jesus. Was he in a _slaughterhouse_ or something? As far as he knew, this wasn't a warehouse that required this many chains. Once he reached the door, he pushed it open. It was dark.  
  
Sam slid his hand into his jacket for his cell phone, booting it up and turning on the Assistive Light option as he stepped into the room. A couple chairs were toppled and tables moved in a scattered manner. Almost like they'd either been bumped into or pushed aside in a hasty fashion. Like one would when running away from something.  
  
He also noticed a couple bloodied handprints littering a few of them.  
  
Dean had been through here.  
  
Sam trailed his fingertips along one of the dried handprints as he walked past, flinching as the back of his skull throbbed.  
  
_Running. Dean was running. He clutched at the wound on his arm. Dean cast a glance over his shoulder, slamming into the first table. With a hiss of, "Fuck!" he shoved it out of his way and ran on._  
  
Slowly, Sam took his hand away from the table, lifting his phone to get better lighting. He frowned once he saw that the door at the other end of the hall was closed. Had Dean not made it to escape? Had the woman taken him down before he could get there? He knew Dean didn't take his car. Had he gotten away on foot?  
  
So many questions with so few answers. It made him sick.  
  
Sam inched his way to the end of the hall, turning to flash some light on things from time to time. As he reached the end, Sam twisted the phone to his left, feeling his stomach drop once he saw a wallet lying on the floor. Falling into a crouch, Sam snatched it off the floor with shaking fingers. He nearly dropped it once he opened it. Dean's driver's license stared back at him. He tightened his hold on it and stood, shoving it into his jacket pocket and extracting his phone.  
  
"Jody, can you meet me at Henry's in an hour?"  
  
"Sure thing." She sounded distracted and Sam could swear he heard a rustle of paper. "Wait, hang on. Sam, are you all right? You sound, well, like shit."  
  
He bumped into one of the tables and hissed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just...look, we're looking for leads and I think I just found some. It's going to sound a little crazy, but I need you to trust me, okay?" Pushing aside another table, Sam continued on his way to his car.  
  
The silence that echoed back almost had him regret calling until Jody sighed. "All right. I'll see you in an hour."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Don't thank me yet."

Sam pulled up to Henry's and parked near the entrance. Shifting the car into park, he leaned back in his seat and pulled Dean's wallet out of his pocket. Flipping it over, he shook it a bit, wondering just how he was going to explain all of this to Jody. Without sounding crazier than necessary.  
  
He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Jody waved to him from inside. Good. She was here and willing to hear him out.  
  
Sam felt bad now for thinking during the drive that she would call a hospital and have him dragged to the nuthouse. Of course Jody wouldn't do that. Not when there was a possible solid lead to find Dean.  
  
Heading inside, Sam slid into the opposite side of the booth from Jody and offered up a tentative smile. Her hands were curled around a cup of coffee, fingers tapping the mug in a thoughtful manner. "Sam," she started, closing her eyes, "before we start, tell me one thing: did Dean go in search of the criminal by himself? He didn't just go missing for no reason, did he?"  
  
"Um...no, actually. That's what I called you out here for." He rifled through his pocket, pulling out Dean's wallet and plopping it on the table. Sam pushed it over to Jody, letting her inspect it. "I found this at an abandoned warehouse an hour out of town. It looks like Dean went there and had a...well, nasty confrontation with the killer you've been looking for."  
  
Jody's gaze rose to meet Sam's and she pursed her lips. "How do you know that?"  
  
"Yeah, well, this is where it's gonna sound crazy." He gestured to the wallet. "But I have proof that I'm not. I swear, Jody, I'm _not_." She kept her eyes on Sam, her gaze analytical. Calculating. After a long pause that had Sam considering leaving lest he find himself shipped off to the nearest psych ward, Jody nodded as an indication for him to go on. "Okay. I went to the warehouse and came across a room with chains covered in blood. Dean's blood. I...touched them and saw the killer's face, but Dean got hurt before he could run. I followed the trail into the back and Dean must have dropped that when he ran into one of the tables."  
  
"Wait. You _touched_ the blood?"  
  
Sam lowered his head, fidgeting as he took in a deep breath. "Yes. It's...it's crazy, I know. I just...I touch anything that had blood on it and I see what happened before it got there." He closed his eyes, worrying his lower lip. "As far as I know, Dean's alive but I don't know for how long. I don't want to waste time arguing over this, okay? You can call me crazy or have me shipped to a psych ward later. Right now, I just want to bring Dean home."  
  
He heard something being placed on the table and Sam opened his eyes to see that Jody had set the wallet down. "I'm listening."  
  
Relief flooded through him at her words and Sam rested his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. "The person you're looking for isn't a man. It's a woman. I couldn't get a good look at her 'cause it was too fast, but she had long blonde hair and brown eyes." He bit the inside of his cheek. "I swear, I've seen her before."  
  
"Sam, I need you to try and remember. I can't get much off of 'blonde and brown eyes’."  
  
"I know, I know." Sam raised a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "Just..."  
  
"Don't force it, okay? You sounded horrible earlier and you do look like you've gone through hell." Jody placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze. "Take all the time you need. Dean's going to be fine, Sam. We'll find him in time."  
  
"Yeah," He breathed in, slow and deep. "Yeah."  
  
It took him a while but Sam was finally able to recall specific details and once he was done, Jody gave him a speechless look.  
  
"I'll be damned." she whispered, eyes wide before reaching for her phone and calling someone. Sam didn't even have to guess because he knew she'd called base to inform them of who they were looking for. "Donna, I need you to look for anything you can find that might point to Ruby’s recent whereabouts and activity. Yes. That Ruby."  
  
Sam wanted to ask, but thought it best not to.  
  
"Also, find out if any John Does have been brought into the nearest hospitals for the past few days."

Turns out that there had been a John Doe admitted to the hospital just last night. Praying with all he had, Sam hoped it was Dean and that he wasn't _completely_ worse for wear. If it wasn't then he wasn't sure what he'd do. Or if he could stomach the thought of Dean dying over something stupid. That his parents would be informed that they had no body to bury.  
  
Just thinking about it made him sick.  
  
He looked at his phone for what felt like the millionth time that day, tightening his hold when he saw that he still had no calls come in. Jody had said she would call him the minute she found out who Mr. Doe was, but so far she hadn't. It was driving Sam crazy and he knew it wasn't good to be this impatient. Though, honestly, he wouldn't blame anyone else if their family member's life was on the line and they wanted just one simple phone call. But he respected Jody and needed to cool his jets.  
  
That didn't mean he didn't answer before the first ring even ended once her name showed up. "Jody? Is it Dean? Is he —"  
  
"Sam, calm down. Yes. It's Dean and he's...well, he doesn't look good, but he's alive." She paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether to elaborate or not. "He's been in and out of consciousness since I got here. I'm sorry I didn't call either, but I needed to hear what happened while he was held hostage."  
  
"No, it's...you have a job to do and calling me would've wasted time in finding Ruby." He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing the lower half of his face. "How bad is it?"  
  
"Besides the fact he's on the good stuff?"  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"Sam, believe me when I say that Dean's going to tell you he could be a lot worse."  
  
Even if that was true, it didn't make Sam feel any better.


	4. Chapter 4

_Beep.  
  
Beep, beep, beep..._  
  
The first time Dean opened his eyes, everything was a swirl of shapes and colors. Not to mention it was bright as _fuck_ and it hurt to keep his eyes open. So he closed them, face pinched and groaning as pain registered in his system. There was a voice too. It was familiar. Too bad he couldn't place it.  
  
"Dean. Dean, are you..."  
  
Oh. Was that Jody?  
  
What was Jody doing here? Didn't she know it was dangerous? That some psychotic bitch was going to be back any minute to -  
  
"...ean?"  
  
He'd passed out.  
  
It had taken three other attempts to finally get Dean up and semi-coherent. Jody had been patient, sitting at his bedside with a paper cup full of ice chips. Which Dean was oh-so grateful for once he was thirsty enough and as Jody began telling him what had happened while he was MIA. He couldn't help the lopsided smile when she brought up Sam coming all the way from California to find him. Good ol' Sammy. Such a family man.  
  
Apparently he must have let that slip because Jody chuckled and put the cup down.  
  
"Don't worry. I won't tell him you called him 'Sammy.'"  
  
"'ank muck."  
  
She gave him a look. "Watch your mouth, mister. I'm still mad at you."  
  
He had the decency (and presence of mind) to look ashamed.  
  
"Good. Now that we understand each other, I need you to tell me what happened." Jody raised her hand and gestured to Dean's face, which was littered with cuts and nicks. "The doctor told me you were dropped off unconscious by Mr. Maubury. I'm going to have a chat with him after Sam gets here, but I was informed that your ribs are damaged and that your left arm is broken. Jesus Christ, Dean, what did she do to you?"  
  
_Besides the obvious?_ lingered on the tip of his tongue but Dean decided not to voice it in favor of looking himself over.  
  
He knew without a doubt that his nose had been broken and that his face wasn't in the best shape. He could still see, hear and talk, so it could be worse. Rib cage? Definitely broken in some places thanks to that bat the bitch had taken to it. His arm? Same story in a nutshell.  
  
"'uckin' bitch did it." Dean raised his right hand, sluggish and slow, to touch his lower lip. Split. Probably caked over in dry blood. "She ha' a bat."  
  
Jody sighed, grabbing hold of the cup to offer up more ice chips. "Sam said you were chased down the hall in the warehouse. What happened? He said he couldn't find any leads after that."  
  
Dean rolled the ice around in his mouth. "Do I wanna know why Sam's workin' this case?"  
  
"Dean, please."  
  
"There was no kid, Jody. It was a trap." Dean closed his eyes and rubbed them. "I would've gotten away if the door hadn't been locked. She locked the fucking door before gettin' the jump on me, and knocked me out before I could even blink."  
  
"...she tortured you, didn't she?"  
  
"No shit. Bitch is as crazy as her old man."  
  
"So it is Ruby?"  
  
He could feel the morphine kicking in again at this point and grit his teeth. No. He had to stay awake and tell her. All the nitty-gritty details.  
  
"Yea'..." Dean's words slurred, his eyes losing focus as he stared up at the ceiling. "She...she strapped me dow' an' started talkin' 'bout how she was gonna..."  
  
He passed out again.

Hours had passed before he opened his eyes again, greeted with the sight of Sam sitting in the chair next to the bed with a magazine in hand. He looked tired too, exhausted even, and there were some dark circles under his eyes as if Sam hadn't been sleeping. Which was probably true, given how Dean had been held captive for however many days had passed. Not like Dean knew how long it had been since Ruby caught him.  
  
Not with how he was strapped down to a chair in the basement with no lights or windows. Complete and absolute darkness unless Ruby decided to pay him a visit. But, damn, wasn't Sam a sight for sore eyes.  
  
Sam's lips quirked up, but he didn't look up from the article he was reading. "Same, dumbass."  
  
Oops. These drugs really did loosen his filter. Then again, he was on the 'good stuff.'  
  
"How'd you find me?" Dean narrowed his eyes, scowling as he tried to sit up and thus ending up jarring his ribs. Sucking in air through clenched teeth, Dean waved Sam off as he got up to help Dean. "I'm fine."  
  
"Dean, you're far from fine. Hell, you're lucky that Mr. Maubury found you when he did; otherwise you'd be —" Sam snapped his jaw shut, and took a deep breath. "You shouldn't be moving. The doctor said your ribs are cracked and that you shouldn't move unless you absolutely have to."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah. It hurts to talk too, but, y'know, I'm doing it anyway." Dean shifted, elbowing the pillow behind him in a vain attempt to fluff it. "You never answered me, Sam. How'd you find me?"  
  
"I did. I told you, Mr. Maubury -"  
  
"No, Sam!" Dean wheezed the second after he rose his voice and rested his right hand on his chest. Breathe. He had to stay calm and breathe. Slowly. "That's...that's not what I meant and you know it."  
  
"Then what did you mean?"  
  
"Don't play dumb. You aren't stupid so stop acting like it." He turned his head to regard Sam, eyes narrowed and a frown displaying his displeasure. "There was no way anyone could figure out it was Ruby. Hell, she made sure there was no way anyone could link her to it, but you did. _How_?"  
  
There was a long, tense silence. It didn't sit well with him and Dean couldn't bring himself to yell at Sam. Didn't have it in him to force his brother to answer. Especially since Sam seemed like he was reluctant to explain, which made the knot in Dean's stomach worsen. What could Sam possibly be hiding? It's not like he was in on it. The guy couldn't even stand the sight of blood, for fuck's sake.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me." he said, finally, but Sam's voice was off. Scared, worried, but overall it was too soft. As if convinced that if he said it louder that it would come true.  
  
"I got jumped by a ragin' psycho and lived, Sam. Try me."  
  
Sam fidgeted restlessly before settling and closing his eyes with a sigh. "Your blood. It...uh...left behind clues."  
  
"My blood?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How?"  
  
"If you'd shut up for a minute, I'll tell you." His words were met with silence and he took that as a sign to continue. "I - you remember when we were kids? When I'd avoid touching you whenever you got hurt and stopped watching action movies with you?" A hum. "Well...I'm not hemophobic. Never have been, really. Just didn't want to freak you out and get tossed into the loony bin."  
  
"Dude," Dean twisted around to get a better look at Sam's face, "what do you mean by 'freaking me out?'"  
  
"...I _see_ things, Dean. If I touch blood then I can see what happened before the person got hurt." Sam wrung his hands and licked his lips. "There's some 'catches' to it though. I only saw Ruby's face because you saw it first. If you hadn't then Jody wouldn't know who to look for."  
  
"Wait, so you're...what? Psychic? Like Jennifer Love Hewitt?"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "She played a medium, not a psychic."  
  
"Same difference."  
  
"It's not."  
  
There was another stretch of silence before Dean huffed and flopped back down. He hissed once it disturbed his ribs but otherwise remained quiet.  
  
"Jody told me that there wasn't a kid." Sam lifted his head and locked eyes with Dean. "How'd you know there wasn't? I mean, I know the kid was nowhere to be seen when you got there -"  
  
"It was a **trap** , Sam." Dean hissed, eyes narrowed and curled his right hand into a fist. "There was no kid, there never was. The note she left at the grave was a ploy and I fell for it. Just like she hoped I would."  
  
"But how do you know that was meant for you?"  
  
_She told me_ hung in the air between them. Like a pink elephant that neither wanted to mention but knew it was there regardless.  
  
Sam decided not to push further, to go back into calmer, shallower waters. "Donna was worried about you."  
  
The small curve of Dean's lips made the knot in his stomach loosen just enough to know things were going to be okay.

Dean jerked up, eyes wide and throat sore. He scanned the room like a caged animal. There wasn't enough light to calm his nerves. Dean felt sick just knowing that this situation was the kind no one wanted to be in. Especially not twice. The only sound in the room besides his heavy, panicked breathing was his heartbeat thudding in his ears.  
  
Where was he? Was Ruby around and about to come 'pay a visit?' Shit. Did she still have that _bat_ and _knife_?  
  
It hurt a little less when she punched him. He would opt for simple physical abuse over being hit with a hunk of wood and cut up. That lasted hours after she left, stung like a bitch. If she punched him, he could numb it by disassociating himself. Pull away from the situation.  
  
Where was she? Where -  
  
There was a ticking sound nearby. And a beep. Both were faint but still noticeable.  
  
Slowly, Dean's breathing started to regulate, just like his heartbeat. Wherever he was, it definitely wasn't a basement, and he could move without restraint. As the _tick, beep, tock_ , kept on, Dean licked his lips and swallowed the lump in his throat. He surveyed the room again and everything began to right itself.  
  
Right. He was in the hospital, it was just a nightmare.  
  
_Just a nightmare._

It was quarter to one when Dean woke next. He felt a hell of a lot better waking to the sun than complete darkness. Couldn't be more grateful for the sun's rays peering through the barely open blinds. Not only that, but Donna was sitting in the chair beside his bed like Sam had done a couple days ago. Her hair was in a simple ponytail, splayed over her left shoulder. Just within Dean's reach.  
  
Who was he to resist touching it? Really.  
  
So he did. Reaching out with his uninjured hand, Dean stroked his girlfriend's hair and pinched the end to tug playfully. Donna huffed a laugh at his antics and looked up from the book she'd been reading. "Afternoon, sunshine."  
  
A slow smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. 's beautiful."  
  
Donna rolled her eyes as she closed her book and swatted half-heartedly at Dean's hand. "Flattery will get you nowhere today, Dean Winchester."  
  
Oh no. She used his full name. A crystal clear indicator that he was in deep shit and all the tricks in his book wouldn't be able to save him.  
  
"Donna -"  
  
"Don't try and dig yourself out of this hole, Dean. Jody told me what happened and I still can't wrap my head around why you'd be so gosh dang stupid as to go after Ruby by yourself." She set her book on the table and crossed her arms. "Sam came to the station after his visit to tell me how you were and - do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive right now?"  
  
Just as he had with Jody, Dean had the mind to be ashamed of the worry he'd caused. Besides that, he _was_ lucky to still be breathing. Considering the fact he'd been under lock and key for days, starving and dehydrated.  
  
"I know." He lowered his head, taking his hand away from Donna's hair and bringing it back to his bedside. "But, Donna, you know I had to, right? If there had been a child in trouble, I couldn't waste time waiting for backup while the clock's ticking." Dean sighed, only to regret it once it irritated his still healing ribs. "'cept there was no kid."  
  
"I heard. Sam's not so sure though."  
  
"What the hell does he know? Can't he just take my word for it? I'm telling you, there was no one else besides me. It was a ruse."  
  
Donna opened her mouth, but there was a knock on the door that cut off whatever she was going to say. Both turned to look at the room's entrance as the door opened. Jody stood there with a file tucked under her arm. Her face was grim and Donna moved to offer Jody the chair. She took it without complaint.  
  
"Sorry to cut your reunion short, Donna, but I need to ask Dean a few questions about what happened."  
  
"What? But I just -"  
  
"Dean." Donna shook her head, picking up her book and leaned over to give him a kiss near the corner of his mouth. "It can wait. You might find it in your best interest to talk to her."  
  
He frowned, turning his attention to Jody and sighing. "All right."  
  
Standing to her full height, Donna then exited the room and shut the door behind her.  
  
With another huff of air, Dean closed his eyes and ducked his head to rest his chin on his chest. "So...?"  
  
"Don't cop an attitude with me, Dean. I know you haven't seen her in days, but this is important. You're the only one who knows the area Ruby last was and where she keeps her victims before offing them. I need you to tell me more. Do you remember anything else besides what you've already told me?"  
  
He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to recollect the scattered memories of when he ran from the cabin - _It was a cabin, right? Yeah...a cabin..._  
  
Dean's hand absentmindedly wandered to his side, lightly rubbing his ribcage.  
  
He told her. Listed the things he could remember, what he deemed important, little details. A small forest, no other hut or home in sight for miles and coming across the “Welcome to Lawrence, Kansas” sign. Just about everything and anything that could help.  
  
Dean just hoped they'd find her before it was too late.

Just as the police seemed to be closing in, they lost track of Ruby all over again. The woman was trying her damnedest to stay under the radar. No cause for alarm, no missing people, absolutely nothing. For weeks. Like a grade-B horror movie that no one wanted to stick around for. The plot was overdone and there were few who would stay 'til the end.  
  
Dean was one of the handful of people who had to watch the rest. No way he could sweep it under the rug. Not when he felt physically ill knowing Ruby was still roaming the streets, where she could pick off another victim at any time.  
  
Jody's updates of their leads ending up dead ends only made his anxiety worse.  
  
Then, finally, a phone call a couple days before, and Dean had to stop himself from collapsing once he heard the words, "She's back." Hours later, Jody drove to his apartment to show Dean the pictures of the crime scene and wasn't surprised in the slightest to see him drinking. If she were in his position, Jody would most likely do the same.  
  
"A crow?" He rose a brow and leaned back in his chair, elbow on the kitchen table as he looked at the picture. "That's not ominous or anything."  
  
Jody barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she took the photograph from him. Flipping it over, she frowned once faced with the crime scene again. The woman in the picture had been sliced and diced with the same knife that the ones previous had. Her blood painted the gravestone and grass crimson. However, the cuts were less methodical than with the first victims, and seemed rushed. Almost as if Ruby knew she wouldn't have enough time to do it properly.  
  
Which seemed to be the case since they had found her knife not even fifteen feet away from the body.  
  
"Don't be such a pessimist. I have some real good news for once." She lowered the photograph to look Dean in the eye. "We have Ruby's knife. It's not much, but it's a start."  
  
Dean scowled. "You mean if Sam touches it."  
  
Jody sighed, slumping her shoulders as she closed her eyes. "Dean -"  
  
"No, Jody. He can't get any more involved than he already is. If Ruby knew he helped identify her or was helping at all, she'd find him and..." Dean licked his lips, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. "...'cut him loose.'"  
  
"You don't really think that, do you?"  
  
Dean gnawed on the inside of his cheek, twirling the bottle in his hand while closing his eyes. "Is it bad that I do?"

They managed to scrounge up some information on where the woman had been before she went missing and the car she had been forced into.  
  
According to the witness, the woman had been shoved into a white Sedan by Ruby after she knocked her unconscious. After, it seems, Ruby drove out of the lot towards the hut she'd dragged Dean to, but changed directions at the last second. Probably because the police would look there first.  
  
Sometimes eye witnesses were amazing.  
  
And there were times when they weren't. To the point Dean wanted to bash his head into the wall, but that was beside the point.  
  
This was the last bit of information Jody had passed along and Dean knew that she wouldn't keep quiet unless she was wrapped up in another case. Even then, that wouldn't stop her for very long. So this, on top of limited availability of transportation, led Dean to reluctantly agree to Sam giving him a ride to the station.  
  
As much as Dean would rather Sam stay away, Dean had two options: go with him or stay in his apartment. And Dean was sick of going stir crazy, thank you very much. So being driven it was. If nothing but to see how the case was going. Jody hadn’t updated him since she showed him the photos, so he figured it was best to go see for himself.  
  
When they finally got there, Dean huffed as he got out of the car, shouldering the door shut while Sam shut the engine off.  
  
They were greeted by Donna, who was back to her upbeat self. Which was an all too welcome sight for Dean.  
  
"Heya, fellas." She gave Dean a quick, light hug and turned her attention to Sam when she pulled back. "Jody was just about to call you. She's looking through the evidence and wanted your opinion on something." Donna pointed to the room that Jody was currently in, no doubt having Ruby's knife out for Sam to 'look' at.  
  
Dean grit his teeth at the thought of the blatant disregard of his concerns about Sam getting more involved. Especially when no one had a clue where Ruby was. "Guess we shouldn't keep her waiting."  
  
Sam gave him a look, worry on full display. "Dean..."  
  
"C'mon." Without waiting for him, Dean made his way to the evidence room and pushed the door open. Only to find out that his suspicions were on point once he saw the knife on the table with a sample tissue beside it. "Tryin' to pull a fast one on me, Sheriff Mills?"  
  
Jody jumped slightly, twisting to face him and heaving a sigh at the anger she saw in Dean's expression. "Dean, we don't have any other choice. The leads were getting cold again and Sam already agreed to do this if we had no other options." Her expression softened. "I didn't want to do this, Dean, but there's no getting around it. Ruby could be anywhere and we need to find her before another body turns up."  
  
"So you're all right with dragging him into this?" Dean hissed, his good hand curling into a tight fist. "I told you not to! If Ruby found out and caught Sam off guard -" A hand on his shoulder halted the rest of Dean's sentence. Peering over his shoulder, Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother and clenched his jaw. "Sam..."  
  
Sam shook his head and offered him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine, Dean. I wouldn't have offered if I thought I couldn't defend myself." Taking his hand off Dean's shoulder, Sam made his way to the table where the blood-caked knife lie. "She'll never know. Not really." He laughed, a nervous tinge to it, and Dean felt his stomach do a nasty flip.  
  
It was one thing for Sam to use his 'gift' to find him, but it was another to have a million visions at once. Especially ones with cruel intent toward the one that bled.  
  
"Sam." Dean took a step toward him, stopping once Sam locked eyes with him. "Are you..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah." Sam cast a quick glance at Jody. "I'll be fine. Might need some painkillers, but I'll live." He turned to regard the sample once more, hand raised and poised to touch. Hesitant.  
  
"You don't have to." Jody said, getting close to the table and about to pluck both the paper and knife up until Dean grabbed hold of her wrist.  
  
"He wants to." Dean gave a light squeeze to assure her of Sam's choice. Even if Dean didn't agree with it or approve, he knew that this had to be done. Knew it would be wrong to not let Sam do this. "Give him some time."  
  
He watched as Sam's hand hovered, brow scrunched in thought, knowing that he was about to touch it any second now. Once he finally did, however, the instantaneous reaction wasn't what they were expecting. Not one bit.  
  
Sam's eyes had squeezed shut and wheezed as if he'd been punched in the gut. He eventually hunched over with a groan, digging his free hand's fingers into his hair while turning his head to the side. His hands shook, and the trembling slowly made its way through his arms, down his chest. His knees gave out as Sam's mouth opened in a silent scream. Sam's hand slipped off the sheet, dried flakes of blood clinging to his fingertips as he curled in on himself.  
  
Dean broke away from Jody and dropped down to grab onto Sam's shoulder. "Sam? Sammy!" He turned to look at Jody. "Get something I can wash his hand with!"

After what seemed like hours of sitting beside his brother, Sam finally came to and Dean released the breath he'd been holding. Dean watched as Sam slowly sat up, and didn't miss the wince when he moved his head. He waited patiently as Sam rubbed his temple to relieve the headache he was surely experiencing after being assaulted with so many 'memories.’ When Sam finally looked at him, Dean shook the water bottle before handing it over.  
  
"Dean...?"  
  
He gestured to the bottle. "Drink up. You've been out for a while after, uh...screamin' your head off."  
  
Sam paused mid-sip and lowered the bottle. "What do you mean?" He took in his surroundings. "And why are we in your house?"  
  
"We couldn't risk you getting hospitalized. You...kinda went ballistic after Jody went to get a wet rag. Guess we shoulda kept one nearby in case the blood decided to stick to you." Dean sighed, resting his elbow on his knee and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe I let you go through with it. God, I'm so stupid."  
  
"Dean, stop. I'm fine. It was just...too much at once." Sam lowered his head, eyes on the bottle as he chewed on his lower lip. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Tell you what?"  
  
"What she did to you. The things she _said_."  
  
"Sam -"  
  
"I'm not going to drop it, Dean." He shot a glare his way. "Why?"  
  
Dean lowered his hand, eyes closing halfway as he dropped his gaze to his shoes. Licking his lips, he swallowed and scuffed the heel of his boot against the laminate floor. "I didn't because -"  
  
A voice interrupted him with, "He knew you would go looking for Ruby." They turned their attention to the door, where Jody stood with a cup of coffee in hand. She rolled her eyes after a minute and took a sip. "Don't give me that look, Sam, you know you would have."  
  
"So you chose to keep this a secret from me?"  
  
"No. You're not an officer, for starters, and Dean told me not to tell you." Jody made her way in the room, leaning against the arm of the couch as she turned her attention to Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean. If I had known this was going to happen—"  
  
Dean averted his gaze, narrowing his eyes as he flexed his hand into a loose fist. "No. It was Sam's idea. We had no idea what a sample would do, let alone a full one." A chill ran down his spine as he cast a glance Sam's way. "Question is, do you remember anything else?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Twisting the bottle in his hands, Sam swallowed before he looked over to Jody. "That girl was just for show. To...to _taunt_ Dean out of hiding. She put her out in the open on purpose after she—"  
  
"Sam, slow down. Breathe."  
  
He did for a few minutes. In, out, in, out. "But that's not all. She's coming for you, Dean." Sam turned to face him, his hold on the water tightening. "Losing her knife was an accident. She's getting sloppy and desperate and, man, I'm scared. If Ruby gets her hands on you again, who knows what she'll do."  
  
Silence blanketed the room, wrapped tight around their throats.  
  
Dean coughed. "So, anyone got any ideas?"

Dean made his way to the kitchen, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and face. He took a sip from his mug as he set his plate on the counter, swallowing his mouthful of coffee. "What? You think so?" He paused, listening to the response. "I asked her to come over today. You don't think she got lost, do you?"  
  
The door to his apartment creaked as it was opened. Barely noticeable if one wasn't paying attention.  
  
"Nah. I was thinkin' of ordering take-out." Dean snorted, reaching up to readjust his phone as he rolled his eyes. "Yes, _mom_ , I know I'm a growing boy." Lowering his hand, he paused, letting it hover over the counter where his gun lay as Jody mumbled something on her end. "Did you forget to feed Fido again? Jeez."  
  
There was a soft _click_ behind him.  
  
"I'm tellin' ya, Joe, you gotta take better care of that dog. Poor thing might start thinking it did something wrong. No joke. It'll start ripping the place apart." Curling his fingers around the butt of the gun, Dean whirled on his heel and pointed the barrel straight at a surprised Ruby. "What can I say? Sometimes dogs are worse than cats. In fact, I have one."  
  
The conversation seemed to come to a grinding halt once the door to Dean's apartment was forced open and Jody stepped in with her gun raised. Then Ruby realized the position she was in.  
  
Her face pinched, knuckles turning white from how tight her hold became on her weapon. "You knew."  
  
"'Course I did." Dean gave a strained smile. "You honestly thought I'd brush it under the rug like nothing happened?"  
  
"How did you know I'd come here?"  
  
He shrugged. "Doesn't take a genius to figure that out. If I gave off the 'shut-in' vibe, you'd force your way in." He took a step away from the counter and twisted the firearm. "Put your weapon down, Ruby. It's over."  
  
" _How did you know_?" she hissed. "I could have just let you stay alive, let you live knowing all those people are dying while you sat on your ass twiddling your thumbs."  
  
Dean swallowed, making sure to keep his voice steady when he spoke again. "Survivor's guilt doesn't work on me."  
  
"Bullshit." Ruby took a step toward Dean, jerking to a stop as Jody cocked her gun.  
  
"Don't you take another step." Leveling her weapon, Jody stepped into the room and kept an eye on Ruby's hand. "If you do then I'll be forced to take you down."  
  
"Put your gun down," he repeated, jaw set. "It's over."  
  
A laugh bubbled out of Ruby's chest and she raised her hand, giving a wide swing of her arm that had both officers tense.  
  
"'It's over,' he says. Like all of this is some kind of game. Newsflash, Winchester: it's not. And unlike a game, the dead can't be brought back to life." She turned slightly, keeping her sights locked on Dean. As if they were the only two people in the room. "This is reality. Cold, hard truths. Like how you'll be dying inside once all of this sinks in and you see that all of those deaths are your fault. All on you."  
  
Dean's hand started to shake from how hard he was holding the firearm. "Whatever your dad told you was a load of shit and you know it."  
  
"My dad? Oh no. This has nothing to do with my dad." Ruby waved the subject off with a flick of the wrist. "It has to do with you and learning that your hero complex is what's 'a load of shit.' Running around and slapping cuffs left and right. Well, guess what? I'm not going to be one of _those_ stories."  
  
She raised the gun—  
  
"Ruby, don't!"  
  
—and pulled the trigger.

"At about three thirty this afternoon, a woman known only at this point as ‘Ruby’ was found in the Oakly Apartments after an attempted break-in and homicide. Officers Winchester and Mills were on the scene, and while they tried to convince Ruby to surrender, she used her own gun to—"  
  
The television went black.  
  
With a sigh, Dean laid the remote on the table. He palmed his face and racked his fingers through his hair. The prerecorded footage was something he didn't need to see again. It didn't make him feel any better that he'd been interviewed and asked a million and one questions. That they had the gall to call him a hero.  
  
He was no such thing.  
  
"Dean."  
  
He rose his head and peered up at Sam, who offered a small smile. "Hey."  
  
"Hey." Sam moved to sit next to him, resting his arms on his knees and looking at the blank screen. "Y'know, I'm kinda surprised your plan worked. Using yourself as bait was...well...suicidal."  
  
"It worked, didn't it?"  
  
A nod. "I'm just saying that it was crazy." Sam watched Dean shift in his seat. "What I don't get is why she was blaming you for everything. Did you know her?"  
  
Dean's shoulders squared as he sat up. "Did you -"  
  
Sam rose a hand to stop him from finishing. "No, I didn't touch anything in your apartment. Jody told me after she sent in the report. I just wanted to hear your 'side of the story' so to speak."  
  
Dean took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. The memory returning in a sickening flood as he pulled it to the forefront of his mind.  
  
"I just started working my own at the time. Got a case about a girl whose dad murdered her mom and took her. Then, not too long after, more kids went missing and wound up dead. By the time we finally closed in, another child was killed and..." He bit the inside of his cheek. "It was Alistair. Ruby's dad. He just...he killed in front of her, tortured those kids and abused her. Lemme tell ya, guy put up a hell of a fight until we finally managed to take him down. Ruby, well, I guess you know how she turned out after that."  
  
Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Y'know it's not true what she said, right? The whole thing about their deaths being your fault. You didn't do that to them."  
  
"Sam," He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"I'm serious, Dean. None of it's your fault. You gotta let it go, man." Sam twisted around to face him. "What Ruby said...she was just flat-out crazy. Bats in the belfry, dude. Totally wacked."  
  
Dean huffed a laugh before he smiled. "Yeah. 'Bats in the belfry’."  
  
But he didn't believe it.


End file.
